


The Brightness of Stars

by Sanshal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackmail, Bondage, Caning, Caretaker Dean, Caretaking, Dean/OMC(s) - Freeform, Fingering, Fisting, Gangbang, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Oral-sex, Prostitution, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spitroasting, Taking Care Of Dean, Voyeurism, anal-beads, anal-sex, baths, blowjob, bottom!Dean, dub-con, electro-play, healing (magical), hurt!Dean, object-insertion, underage-extreme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanshal/pseuds/Sanshal
Summary: The brothers end up in the clutches of twisted humans and rather than have them both be tortured or murdered, Dean offers himself up if they let Sam go...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for spn_kink meme prompt
> 
> This is a DARK STORY, please pay attention to the TAGS/ WARNINGS

 

 

The Brightness of Stars  


 

  


Sam shook his head at himself as he caught sight of those laughing eyes and had to lower his gaze- sometimes he still could not believe that he was actually going as slow as he was with this relationship. This time the chances of him being rejected were next to nill and he was still going so slow. ... But it was precisely because he knew that he would never be rejected here that he was treading so carefully: Dean would never deny him. He would smile and nod and accept whatever Sam gave him, would grin as he spread his legs even as he was dying on the inside and that was a chance Sam refused to take. Dean had to want this for himself for this to be okay and Sam wanted to be cent percent sure that he wanted this. Wanted them.

He caught the older Winchester’s gaze from over the head of the other patrons and failed to hide his blush when the other winked at him. The bar was not over-crowded but it was busy enough that Dean could easily hustle a little and add some lining to their thinning wallets. Sam claimed a corner booth for himself and settled in with a beer and a paper-back, the majority of his attention on his brother rather than the words on the page.

Dean at a hustle was like watching a work of art- the smooth movements and teasing grin a siren call to whoever was watching. Sam adjusted himself discretely and returned his gaze to the book he was no longer interested in. No matter how much Dean flirted, he would not be going home with anyone other than Sam. It had been weeks since the last time his brother had gone out and after yesterday morning, Sam was fairly certain that Dean was not going to stray.

He had realized early on that his feelings for his brother were not strictly fraternal, but he’d been unsure of whether they would be reciprocated... but then Dean went and sold his soul to save Sam’s life and Sam knew that he would not be denied. Despite not denying his interest, Dean refused to do anything that would make Sam miss him even more once the year ended and so they’d done nothing. Once Dean got back, things had gotten too hectic to resume- or more accurately, start - that side of their relationship, but then Dean had agreed to be the bomb to destroy God’s sister and Sam had given in. Dean had, unsurprisingly, granted him ingress; but hadn’t returned the kiss. Their second and third kiss had gone much the same way after they had discovered that Dean had survived; but then Dean had reciprocated and kissed him back their fourth time. ... And yesterday... Yesterday, Dean had actually initiated the kiss.

Sam glanced up again and was startled by the tense line on Dean’s shoulders. His brother made his way to the bar- game obviously forgotten- and Sam watched as an older man followed him. He frowned as the man pulled up a stool next to his brother, sitting much too close for comfort and said something. Dean answered but his smile was faked and Sam felt himself unconsciously check for the Taurus he usually tucked into his waistband and grimaced when he remembered that they had decided against entering the pub armed. The bar was too far for him to overhear anything; but still, he wasn’t a hunter for nothing and he was decent at lip-reading if he did say so himself.

The man seemed to be claiming that Dean was ‘good luck’ but the way Dean stiffened told him that he’d obviously assumed wrong.

What rhymed with luck???  
Luck-Buck-Puck- Tuck- Muck-Duck- Fuck-

Fuck! The guy must’ve said the f-word.

Sam growled under his breath.

The way the waitress’ eyes widened and swivelled in his direction told him he’d not been as discrete as he’d thought and he threw her an apologetic smile.

She still scurried away like she’d seen the devil.

Good.

He just hoped the creep would have a similar reaction.

 

“Dean,” Sam greeted as he stepped up behind his brother and laid a possessive hand on his shoulder, hoping the other man would take the hint and leave.

“Sam,” Dean acknowledged, but his voice was uncharacteristically faint and Sam frowned when he noticed that Dean appeared to have lost even more of his pallor at his appearance.

Uncertainty about the Dean’s atypical aloofness had him taking his first good look at the older man who had followed his brother. He was nothing special to look at: no distinguishing features or outward appearance to make him memorable; just another farmhand in a rural community like this- slightly on the older side given the liberal sprinkling of silver at his temples and the hints of grey in his beard and starting to go soft around his middle though he was yet to develop a proper beer-gut. However, all that was secondary to the way he was looking at Sam, the gaze appraising in a way that had goose-bumps erupting across his skin.

“Ah, looks like someone has risen through the ranks,” The man murmured as he gathered their drinks, “Not bad, Kid. Not bad at all.”

“Sam’s not in the business.” Dean’s voice, though faint and obviously battling his nerves was like the crack of a whip as he yanked out a stool for himself at the table they’d stopped by.

Sam glanced at his brother in surprise at the outburst, only then realizing that Dean had somehow wormed himself between Sam and the other man. Sam rolled his eyes inwardly at Dean’s instinctive protectiveness and perched himself on the stool at the small round table they had commandeered for themselves. It didn’t escape his notice that it wasn’t one of the many free booths along the far wall that would afford them better privacy and wondered if Dean had purposely picked this table that was pretty much centrally placed in the busy bar. The older man was directly across from him and Dean was to his right, stool angled to face the other man, but closer to Sam than him.

“No? That’s a pity; he looks lik-”

“I said, Sam’s not in the business, Raul.” Dean ground out; hand slapping down loudly on the sticky table and leaning forward in an obviously aggressive move.

“Huh,” The man held up his hands palm outwards in a placating gesture, unperturbed by Dean’s hostility. “Fine; if that’s how you wanna play it. ... anyway, I didn’t think John would have allowed-”

“John?! He means Dad?!” Sam interrupted in surprise and then kicked himself inwardly for giving the man more ammunition.

“Well-well-well,” Raul grinned, practically salivating at whatever opportunity he thought this to be, “This is interesting. Revenge for what he put you through?”

“No,” Dean snapped, giving a quick squeeze to Sam’s hand in what had been their signal to play along, “Sam’s not involved in the business at all. He doesn’t ...He- He’s an innocent. So please, keep him out of this?”

“Sure,” Raul raised his hands again in what Sam guessed was a popular gesture for the man. He didn’t exactly look or act threatening, so he still didn’t get why Dean was so cagey around this guy. “Anyway, how about another one, for old times’ sake?”

Dean went even paler if that was possible and Sam wondered what Raul for suggesting to get such a reaction from his normally unflappable brother.

“Uhm... yeah, sure; why not?”

Raul narrowed his eyes, picking on Dean’s reluctance, “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,”

Dean just offered a stiff smile.

“You can always refuse if you want, boy. Why, I’d be just as happy to do business with Sam here.”

Before Sam could open his mouth to respond Dean was snapping out a ’No!’

“No?” Raul chuckled, “I’d have thought you’d be foaming at the mouth to get a chance to introduce John’s precious boy into the business-”

“No,” Dean repeated, but his words were laced more with desperation than anger.

Raul continued as though Dean hadn’t spoken, “Get even with him,”

“What?!” Sam’s eyes widened at the words, “What did Dad do, Dean?”

“I’ve already settled my score with him. “ Dean spoke over him, green eyes boring into Raul and ignoring Sam. “Besides, like I said, Sam’s Not. Involved.”

“R-e-a-lly?” Raul dragged the word out, obviously not believing.

“Sent him to Hell myself,” Dean returned evenly, then threw a fake sneer his way, “Sorry, Sam. I’d hoped you’d never learn that little nugget.”

There was something going on here that he just wasn’t getting. And Sam hated not understanding things. Always had.

And while Dean wasn’t technically lying, he was framing things in way that the actual events could be misconstrued to be a murder. Dean was goading him, he realized. Setting up the stage for Sam to get angry at him- for real or not was still debatable- and storm out. He wanted Sam to leave so that he would face whatever this threat was that Raul posed, alone.

And that just wasn’t happening.

He forced himself to glare at Dean, spitting out a harsh: “Wow, and to think I’d trusted you...”

Dean ducked his head, the words obviously hitting him hard.

He turned to Raul, “Now, I don’t know what business Dad had with you, but... was it profitable?”

Raul’s eyes sparkled with unholy glee at the thought of having driven a wedge between the lovers, “Oh, yes. So profitable.”

“And it involves Dean?”

The smile widened, making the man remind him of a shark as he simply nodded.

He just hoped Dean had an actual plan beyond getting him out of there as he extended his hand, “Great, then count me in. And since I’ll be learning the ropes this time, I think we’ll call it even at just twenty percent of the profits. Deal?”

The man smiled and accepted his hand. But then before he could comprehend what had happened, he found Raul pressed up behind him, the hand he’d extended for him to shake twisted behind him and cold steel at his throat. The man’s breath was hot and fetid and stank of cigarettes and cheap beer as he bent to whisper: “How about I make you a counter offer?”

“Raul!”

Sam peered at Dean from where Raul had his head tilted back and neck pressed against the blade.

“Raul, please... I-I agreed, didn’t I? You have me; let Sam go.”

The blade disappeared from his skin and Sam took in a couple of breaths as he watched the older man resume his seat. He sneaked a peak at Dean and hated the defeated look on his brother’s face.

Raul smiled benignly and Sam repressed the shiver that crept up his spine.

“I knew you’d see things my way, Dean.” The grey-bearded man said, his tone friendly again.

Dean didn’t look up to meet anyone’s eyes as he nodded once.

“Here,”

Sam watched as Dean accepted the small brown paper packet without protest. He tried to meet Dean’s eyes but his brother evaded his gaze, leaving the table with a polite ‘excuse me’.

Sam snapped his gaze back towards Raul the moment Dean left and wondered how the man could be sure that Dean would return- he knew that Dean would, but that was because he knew Dean.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long minute before Raul pulled out his phone and began texting. Sam fidgeted, uncertain about what he should do, about why Dean was behaving so submissively around Raul and how best he could weasel the information out of the man; but then Dean returned and he lost his chance.

“I’m ready.” Dean spoke up when Raul continued to tap at his phone.

“Good,” Raul finally looked up, “But we still have some time, why don’t you take a seat?”

Sam wondered at Dean’s moment of hesitation before the older Winchester gave a stilted nod and gingerly lowered himself on the wooden surface of the stool. Sweat beaded at his temples and he avoided Sam’ gaze. And while the performance might have fooled others, Sam knew him well enough to understand that Dean was trying to regulate his breathing to appear unfazed.

He glanced around at the people milling about and debated screaming for help but refrained from following through- Dean must have a solid reason for avoiding attention, and even if he didn’t know why; he trusted his brother. Sneaking a peak to confirm that Raul was still engrossed with his phone, he snaked out a hand to lay it on Dean’s forearm which was loosely propped on the table.

His brother’s eyes flew to his almost immediately and Sam shook his head, giving a brief squeeze of solidarity: whatever happened, they would face it together.

Dean looked away.

“So,” Raul broke the moment, glancing between the two Winchesters, “We should discuss terms,”

Sam looked to Dean in confusion: terms?

Dean exhaled deeply before speaking, “Nothing permanent...”

Raul grinned, “I remember that one from last time,”

Dean gave a curt nod, “Nothing that would require medical attention,”

The bearded man steepled his fingers, “Well, that limits my options quite a bit,”

Dean shrugged, “Those are my terms,”

Raul smiled, “You drive a hard bargain, Dean-o,”

“And you let Sam go,” Dean added, leaning forward and hissing quietly.

Sam would have wondered what that was about but he was too caught up in the fact that Dean was once again trying to protect him and glared at his brother.

“Now that... that I cannot do.” Raul shook his head, scratching at his beard, “He’s my leverage.”

“I never go back on my word, Raul. I said yes and I meant it. I’ll do it, just let Sam go.”

“Can’t do that.” Raul repeated, then after a moment’s consideration: “But- but what I can do is promise that he’ll not be hurt as long as you comply.”

“Not enough,” Dean growled, “If he has to come along, fine; but you don’t involve him. You don’t touch him- He. Does. Not. Get. Involved.”

“Done.” Raul grinned, extending his hand to shake before rising, “Shall we?”

Dean nodded as he followed suit, trailing after the man and whispering a quiet apology to Sam. There was a non-descript white van waiting for them, but when Sam went to follow Raul and Dean into its back; Raul stopped him: “Sorry, Kiddo; Dean doesn’t want you involved... So, you ride in the front.”

Sam swallowed as he obeyed, spying the Impala in the far end of the lot and discarding his idea of making a sprint for it: he wouldn’t make it and he had a feeling that the price for his attempt at defiance would come out of Dean’s skin.

Sam sat quietly as he took in the roads flying past; idly wondering what their destination was when he heard Raul in the backseat. “How about a free sample, Dean-o?”

Dean’s response was too low for him to hear and Sam twisted to see what was going on but the single tinted window in the back meant it was far too dark to make out anything. He turned back again and accidentally caught Raul’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. The man gave him a lazy smile and Sam quickly glanced away, not willing to hold that creepy gaze.

They stopped in front of what appeared to be a large ware-house and Sam followed the others inside. He instinctively glanced at Dean to confirm his brother’s well-being and found himself frowning at how plump and kissable Dean’s lips appeared under the street-light : no one but him should see his brother like that.

“Where’re you keeping Sam?” Dean asked and Sam narrowed his eyes at the raspy-quality to his voice.

Raul led them towards a wall and offered Sam some gloves.

Sam raised his eyebrows in wordless question.

“Dean doesn’t want you hurt but I’m going to have to restrain you so that you don’t interrupt the... ummm... the festivities. The gloves will protect your skin from the cuffs.”

Sam nodded sullenly as he slipped on the gloves, only realizing once they were on that they were the fingerless variety that would not allow him to use his fingers to slip the cuffs. He scowled as Raul slipped on individual cuffs and restrained his hands to two different poles. He was forced down into a high-backed chair and his legs similarly restrained at the ankles. He glanced at Dean in hopes of having him protest and glared when his brother pointedly looked away. Busy glaring at Dean, he squawked in surprise when thick packing-tape was wound around his calves to bind them against the chair’s legs and opened his mouth to protest when a similar treatment was meted out to his gloved hands to ensure that his fingers were really unusable- his error in opening his mouth evident when a rag was shoved in to keep his silent. The tape was applied from over the rag as well.

“Well, what do you think, Dean?”

Sam stared in betrayal when Dean’s only answer was: “Blindfold. He needs a blindfold.”

Raul just winked in response as he led Dean away, “Not yet.”

His feelings of betrayal dissolved when one of the men he hadn’t noticed entering after them grabbed Dean by his nape and pulled him in for a kiss. He screamed in protest at the way they were treating his brother, but Dean went willingly, allowing himself to be moved as the man pleased; shrugging out of his multiple layers when prompted till he was standing in just his jeans.

The man finally released him and Sam could only stare at the kiss-bitten lips now shiny with spit as Dean crouched to remove his boots.

“Good boy,” the man kissing his brother praised and Sam watched a light flush spread all the way across Dean’s torso in response.

Dean didn’t speak as he straightened; his hands at his belt when another guy- this one nearly as tall as Sam and built like a wrestler told him to stop. The taller guy pressed up against Dean’s back, biting and sucking at his neck even as his hands quickly worked at the fastenings at Dean’s hip and another guy moved to his brother’s front, sandwiching him. Sam screamed in outrage as the one in front pinched at Dean’s nipples viciously, drawing a small hurt sound from the man. When the men moved away, something was glinting on Dean’s chest and Sam realized with a start that they had put clamps on his brother. And that itself would have infuriated him if he had not spotted something thin and black peeking from between Dean’s freshly bared butt-cheeks.

“Enjoying the show?”

Sam turned his head to glare at Raul who had sidled up next to him while he had been busy looking at Dean.

“Mmph...!”

“Yeah, he really is something, isn’t he?” Raul murmured, “Anyway, keep watching. The show’s just beginning.”

Sam’s eyes widened as one of the newcomers- five, six, seven, eight-nine-ten... eleven... twel- no, counted ‘im already- okay, he’s new... twelve, thirteen-fourteen-fifteen. Oh, God... there were fifteen men- unzipped as he sat. He swallowed down his rising gorge with difficulty as he took in the man lazily stroking himself as though Dean’s humiliation was some sort of entertainment.

“Looks like someone’s ready for you, boy!” One of the men remarked with a harsh hit on his brother’s exposed rear and Sam flinched.

He watched Dean glance up to see who was being indicated before wordlessly walking to the lazily stroking man and lowering himself to his knees. He looked away when Dean lowered his face, only to blink his eyes open again as he heard Raul’s voice.  
“Here,”

Sam struggled helplessly as some sort of pole was attached to his older sibling’s legs- just above his knees- to force him to keep his legs-knees- a little more than shoulder-width apart. With his face buried between the man’s legs, and his legs forced open, Sam had a clear view of the black peeking between Dean’s butt-cheeks. He blinked back tears when the man receiving the blowjob leaned forward to yank on the thin black tubing till a small bead slipped out of the tightly clenched sphincter. It wasn’t large: half an inch in diameter, but it could not have been comfortable for Dean to have it yanked out like that. The rest of the tugs weren’t as rough- the man toying with Dean more than trying to retrieve the beads, and Sam screamed in impotent rage as he watched four similarly sized beads escape his brother’s bowels. He wondered when they had managed to force the anal beads inside Dean before remembering the brown paper package Raul had handed his brother.

They made Dean crawl like that- naked and with his legs forced apart-between the men, servicing each of them with his mouth until one of the newcomers got bored and went to town on Dean’s ass with a slender dildo.

Sam’s screams of protest went unheard behind the gag.

It didn’t take long for more of the ‘guests’ (paying customers?) to get tired of waiting for their turn and they hoisted Dean onto a low table of sorts, not giving him enough time to get his bearing before one of them was sodomising him. Sam felt the first helpless tears slip down his cheeks as he watched Dean go rigid with pain from the intrusion. The man didn’t allow his brother to acclimatize to the invasion; instead beginning to thrust at a punishing pace almost the second he managed to breach the barely prepared orifice. A soft moan of pain escaped Dean’s lips and Sam strained against his restraints to go to his aid.

He might have made some sort of sound because suddenly the green eyes he’d spent looking into-up to- his whole life were focussed on him.

Sam’s breath hitched and he could only stare back helplessly into that well-loved gaze. The eyes shuttered and Sam forced himself to lower his gaze.

“Raul!”

His head jerked as he heard the raspy quality of Dean’s voice.

“Raul, please... don’t make him watch. Please.”

The bearded man rubbed at his chin thoughtfully and then pushed up to his legs from where he’d been sprawled, watching the proceedings. Sam’s heart skipped a breath as the man removed a small curved blade from his pocket and flicked it open.

“You sure ‘bout not wanting him to see, Dean?” The man enquired.

Sam turned his head in time to stare at Dean, who was still on all fours, a different man behind him; shake his head vehemently. His panicked eyes locked on the wicked-looking blade even as his body continued to move with the thrusts.

“No, its-its okay... he-he can ... he can see.” Dean whispered in a defeated tone and Sam felt a new flare of hate for the man who had reduced his proud brother to this.

“You’re talking too much, boy!” One of the men snapped before reaching out to grab Dean by the short hair at his nape and lowering his head to his crotch.

Sam’s tears were drying on his cheeks by the time the men were done, sometimes taking Dean at both ends and sometimes preferring one hole over the other.

“This is getting boring- there’s no fight left in him and he’s too loose!” One of the men grumbled with a sharp hit across Dean’s rear and Sam flinched, having been lulled into a kind of tired passivity by the repeated rapes.  
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Raul mused as he stood up again and sauntered to the table where Dean was still on all fours.

Sam began his struggles anew.

“Get him on his front. And remove that spreader.” Raul ordered as walked past the table where Dean was and across the room towards a niche in the wall that hid him from Sam’s view.

The younger Winchester watched helplessly as Dean was laid on his stomach on the table which was slightly shorter than his length and so they bound him with his feet hanging off one end and his head at the other. His hands were restrained at his side.

Raul returned with a long, thin stick- a cane, Sam’s hysterical mind supplied. He tried to scream a warning to Dean who had not even bothered to look back once; but with the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape across it, his words were an unintelligible gurgle.

“Is his hole accessible?” Raul asked the man who had complained.

The man examined Dean’s bound form for a moment before shrugging, “Yeah, but the angles not right.”

“Stuff a cushion under his hip, see if it helps,” Raul suggested.

The man did as recommended, then climbed atop the table and thrust into Dean once before withdrawing and demanding another cushion. He pushed into Dean again before pulling out and throwing a thumbs’ up in Raul’s direction.

With his hips awkwardly raised by the cushions, they had to readjust the straps holding his brother down and Sam watched with bated breath as they brought his legs together and bent his feet so that the soles were exposed.

“Go on,” Raul told the man who promptly straddled Dean and pushed into him.

Sam hissed in sympathy as Dean’s head and shoulders came up (as much as they could with the fastenings holding him down) at the intrusion before relaxing again.

“Better, but not enough,” The man announced as he grabbed at Dean’s shoulders to get the desired leverage to move the way he wanted. “There’s barely any grip,”

“Oh, it’s going to get better, I promise.” Raul told him before unceremoniously bringing down the cane on the upturned soles of Dean’s feet.

Dean screamed, his whole body tensing from the pain.

“God, that felt amazing! Do it again!” The man riding Dean announced.

Dean was still gasping for breath from the first hit when Raul brought down the cane a second time and Sam desperately swallowed down his gorge, knowing he would choke and suffocate on his own vomit if he didn’t.

Dean screamed again, though his howl was slightly muffled this time and Sam caught a fleeting glimpse at green eyes before Dean turned his head forward again. It was only then that he realized that Dean had possibly been downplaying his pain to shield Sam from the reality of how much he was hurting. He knew it shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. Coming from the man who had sold his very soul to save Sam, giving up his body and downplaying his injuries for the same goal was nothing, but no matter how many times it happened; watching his brother sacrifice himself for his sake never got easier.

“Isn’t someone going to plug his mouth?” Raul asked with a grin, “He’s making too much noise!”

There were hoots of laughter at the joke as Dean let out another muffled yell. Dean was trying to hold in his screams, Sam knew; and it wasn’t for the benefit of the men. He turned his head, not wanting to watch his brother getting brutalized in this fashion... but- but Dean was enduring this for him; the least he could do was watch it.

He looked up in time to watch a man loosen the straps holding down Dean’s shoulders and ram his not inconsiderable length down his throat.

Fresh tears leaked out of Sam’s eyes as he watched the uncomfortable position the men forced Dean into: his stomach and legs held down flat against the table but with his hips raised to accommodate the man behind him while another held his head and shoulders up by a roughly fisted hand in his hair and abused his mouth. The worst of it was Raul, who continued caning the vulnerable soles of his feet. Dean’s entire body was flinching from the blows and Sam wanted nothing more than to push them away and take Dean away from here, but he could do nothing other than watch helplessly as they abused the man he loved more than life before his very eyes.

Something about the bastinado seemed to loosen whatever inhibitions these men had left because once Raul was done; the men were rougher that they had already been. Someone suggested ‘DP’ and Sam found himself wondering if they were actually stupid enough to click ‘display-pictures’ of themselves abusing Dean. When he actually found out what they meant, Sam found himself wishing that his theory about ‘DP’ standing for ‘display picture’ had been correct.

By the time they hauled Dean on all fours again with the man who had pulled down his jeans when the ‘evening’ first started, fingering his loose rim, he was little more than a rag doll in their hands; muscles trembling visibly from strain as he struggled to hold himself up. Sam was struggling to breathe, his eyes swollen from crying and nose dripping snot and tears in equal measure. He had screamed and struggled and prayed without success and now he could only watch as the man shoved his entire fist into Dean one finger at a time. Once half his forearm disappeared inside Dean, he yanked his brother to his knees and everyone laughed at the outline of his fist that they could see pressing against Dean’s lower abdomen. Some of the men ‘high-fived’ him and Sam battled his nausea at the sight of the ripples under Dean’s skin while his brother thrashed lightly from the agony of the intrusion.

He suddenly got the prickly sensation of eyes on him and searched the room till he found Raul looking at him as he spoke to one if the assembled men.

He glared back defiantly: nothing could be worse than what they had done to Dean.

His hopes that Raul would come to him proved for naught, though when the man strode over to where Dean was lying on his side, blissfully free of any fingers or dicks on him for the moment, his defiance dissolved into indecipherable pleas.

“I’ve received an offer,” The bearded man began.

Sam strained to hear the rest- he wasn’t talking very loudly and although the some ten-fifteen feet of space between them wasn’t a lot, he didn’t want to miss what was being said.

Dean nodded as he tiredly sat up again, “What do I have to do?”

Raul shook his head, “Offers not for you-wants half an hour with your friend.”

“No!” Dean’s voice, barely more than a scraping whisper from all the abuse his throat had taken had an underlying hint of panic that no one but Sam could’ve detected.

“It’s a lot of money,” Raul responded.

“No, Sam’s not for sale. You don’t touch him, so help me God-” Dean growled; Sam was relieved to see the fire return to his brother’s gaze even if it was on his behalf.

“I’m not losing that profit, Dean-o,”

“Ask him for an alternative. Use me- I’m up for anything... but don’t you let that bastard lay a finger on Sam!”

Sam blinked back tears at the words, hearing an echo of them from before Dean’s voice had dropped and shook his head. He didn’t know – Dean hadn’t shared anything with him, but Sam was sure that his brother had said the same thing or similar to their Dad more than a few times. He’d always complained about his childhood, but looking back on it with the filters removed told him that things could have been far worse for him than they were if it had not been for his brother’s intervention.

“He did give an option...” Raul finally drawled, interrupting Sam’s memories of his childhood.

“What?” Dean jumped at the opportunity.

And despite straining, Sam could not hear what Raul whispered into his brother’s ear. He watched Dean’s eyes widen and his brother swallowed reflexively. The green eyes met his for a brief second before turning back to Raul, “Fine. Do it.”

Sam’s heart hammered as he watched the man jerk back in surprise, obviously taken aback and impressed by Dean’s determination before going back and speaking in low tones to the man he had been conversing with.

Everyone gathered around to watch the spectacle and Sam felt his heart skip a beat as the man disappeared outside briefly only to return with a long handled cattle prod.

Dean got on his knees on the table and lowered his head till his forehead was resting on the surface- a sensual picture of supplication that Sam would’ve found himself admiring if it had been anywhere but here... no, that wasn’t quite right, the only way he would enjoy seeing Dean like that was if it was done in privacy. And Dean hadn’t been coerced into it. Then, Dean reached back and grabbed at his ass cheeks, pulling them apart as wide as they could go to reveal the abused, sensitive opening in between.

Sam could only stare in horror as the man proceeded to touch the tip of the prod to that vulnerable sphincter’s rim and Dean convulsed before collapsing, no longer able to hold his position. Everyone laughed as the man discarded the prod and climbed up on the table to take his brother again. Dean’s body spasmed once before going still. He remained unmoving throughout the ordeal and Sam wondered if they had actually managed to kill his brother.

The men left the room one by one, and Sam would have cheered if he could but Dean hadn’t moved still and he was more occupied watching his brother’s still form than tracking their departure...Unsurprisingly, Raul was the last to leave, but he was taken aback when he sauntered up to Sam.

“Next time you’re up for some trade, bring him back here.”

Sam glared, though with the tears marring his face, he wasn’t sure how effective the expression was.

“I’ll leave the keys with Dean.”

He wasn’t sure how long he waited, and every passing second made him increasingly more terrified; but at long last Dean finally twitched. His brother came to slowly and then sat up cautiously. He checked the room once – eyes studiously not looking at Sam-before exhaling loudly and wiping a hand over his face. For a long minute, he simply sat there hunched on the table. Sam watched Dean move – if it could actually be called that- he shuffled forward till he could climb down from the table but the moment he tried to stand, Dean went down with a low moan. The table hid him from view and Sam strained to make out if Dean had lost consciousness. It was another long minute before Dean managed to slowly make his way to his discarded clothes on his hands and knees. He shrugged them on one by one before crouching to pull on his socks and boots. Unfortunately, the moment his feet touched the ground, Dean’s face twisted up in pain and he collapsed back on the ground. Fresh tears leaked Sam’s eyes as he watched Dean be forced to catch his breath from the agony of that simple movement before he managed to pull on his footwear. Sam watched Dean brace himself for whatever he was about to do and every fibre in him begged Dean to stop, but with his mouth gagged, the words remained unvocalised. Both brothers had tears in their eyes by the time Dean climbed to his feet. He swayed slightly and Sam worried if he was going to crash to the floor again, but Dean breathed through the pain and by the time he looked up, the mask was firmly in place again. Every single one of the twelve painstaking-limping- steps that it took him to reach Sam caused tears to spring to his eyes, but Dean held them in check as he made his way over.

The brothers simply stared at each other for an interminable moment once Dean got close enough to touch and Sam knew the last time he’d been this happy to have Dean close was when the older man had first returned from Hell. He attempted a tremulous smile but the result must have been different because Dean’s eyes crinkled with concern. A trembling hand wiped at the tears and snot marring his face and Sam leaned into the touch.

The tape over his mouth and the gag were the first to go, peeled carefully back to minimise the sting from the tape’s adhesive. He still winced at the stinging sensation but was glad to be rid of it.

“You okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Am I okay?! Dean, are youokay ?” Sam shot back incredulously.

“Sam-”

He shook his head, “Yeah, I’m okay. But Dean you-”

“I’m fine.” His brother ground out before arthritically crouching down to undo the bindings around Sam’s legs.

“I’m going to kill them.” Sam growled as he took in the tremor in Dean’s hands that made the simple job of removing the bindings from around his legs into a task.

“No,” Dean returned evenly, not even bothering to look up. “You’ll do no such thing. If we encounter them on our way out, you’ll let me handle them.”

“But-”

“Sammy, please.” And Dean’s voice shook for the first time the whole evening.  
Sam felt his eyes water but he gave in, not wanting to agitate Dean.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Chapter-2

 

 

  
  
  
“Keys,” Sam demanded once they were standing in front of the Impala again, courtesy of a young couple who had given them a lift when they found the Winchesters wandering in front of the warehouse.  
  
“I’m not giving Baby up,” Dean answered, voice still raspy and struggling to hide a tremor. “You can keep the bunker, hell;  _all_ the cars in the bunker, everything; but you’re not keeping Baby.”  
  
A cold pit grew in Sam’s stomach at the words and he hoped he’d misunderstood: “Dean... what’re you talking ‘bout?”  
  
“I know it’s different.” His brother whispered, avoiding his eyes.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“Knowing your brother is a whore objectively and  _watching_  him in the act. I’d hoped you’d never learn that bit about me... ‘bout my past, but I guess truth always finds a way, huh? So yeah, I’m not going to make you say it. I- I’ll leave. Just- just leave me the Impala.”  
  
“The Impala’s yours.  _Always has been._ ” Sam assured, unable to address the rest of what Dean had said. “Dad gave it to you, remember?”  
  
Dean shook his head, “And I left it to you when I went to Hell. ... but, since I came back-” He shrugged, “I guess that makes it ours. ... but thank you for not taking it from me. Would you let me drop you off at the bunker or -”  
  
“What’re you on ‘bout again?”  
  
“I was stupid to think I could ever deserve someone like you. ...I- I’d thought that since it’s been years, and Cas rebuilt me from the ground up... maybe- maybe I was.... but I can see my mistake. I’m not going to force you, Sammy. I may be a whore, but I’m not a rapist, okay? I’ll never hurt you- at least, not like that.”  
  
“Dean...” Sam whispered, heart sore and horrified by the litany of self-loathing spewing from Dean’s lips.  
  
“So I can drive you back... if you’d let me, I’ll drive you back. I-I-I promise to keep my hands to myself-” His brother continued, oblivious to the interruption.  
  
“Dean, ple-please.”  
  
Enormous green eyes blinked up at him as the flood of words came to a grinding stop at the crack in his voice.  
  
“You want me to leave now?” A small voice enquired.  
  
“Is that what you think?” Sam burst out, “Oh God, Dean... is that what you really think I’m going to do? Turn you out on your ear after you sacrificed yourself to protect me? Do you really think that low of me?”  
  
“Sam-”  
  
Sam shook his head, wiping angrily at the tears streaming down his face before coming to a decision. Without further warning, he cupped his right palm around Dean’s jaw and leaned in for a kiss.  
Dean turned his face away so that his lips grazed the stubble on his cheeks instead of his lips as had been Sam’s intent, “Please don’t,”  
  
Sam bit his lip as he pulled back, looking away briefly before meeting the familiar green gaze, his hand slipping off Dean’s face to fall limply at his side again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... force you.”  
  
And the smallest of smiles bloomed on Dean’s face, “I know. You’ll never force me, Sammy.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“I’m dirty,”  
  
“Dean-”  
  
But his brother was already shaking his head and tossing him the Impalas’ keys, opening the passenger door and sliding in. “I mean it in the literal sense, Sam. I just... and I stink. Can’t wait to wash off the filth... And then sleep.”  
  
“Motel?”  
  
“Bunker, I’d rather not hang around in this town anymore.”  
  
Sam smiled grimly, “Yeah, me too... we’ll stop at a clinic on the way. Or would you prefer a hospital?”  
  
“No hospitals.  _Or_  clinics.” Dean vetoed predictably.  
  
“But-”  
  
“Not saying no to meds, Sam.” Dean told him tiredly, “The docs can’t help me beyond prescribing meds ... And I already know what I require.”  
  
“You require more than simple painkillers, Dean.”   
  
“Yeah,” His brother agreed, head tilted back against the bench. “Think I saw a pharmacy on the main.”  
Dean rattled off a list of drugs as Sam pulled the car out of the lot and it turned out, he wasn’t wrong about the twenty-four hour pharmacy’s address either.   
  
Sam went to the pharmacy and procured the items Dean had asked for and it was only when he noticed the pitying smile on the cashier’s face that the full import of the events hit him. He had been so overwhelmed by the abuse he had witnessed that he had totally overlooked the fact that this was not the first time something like this had happened to Dean. In fact it was so  _not_  a first time that Dean already knew which medications he would require.   
  
Later, when he thought back on it, Sam was not sure how he managed to keep his composure and walk out of the pharmacy; but he managed to complete his purchase and get back to the car, hand over the green cloth bag the medicines came in to Dean and walk around to the driver’s side and get in before he crumpled over the steering, silent gasping sobs shaking his entire frame. There was a muted hiss and then a warm palm rubbed over his back, trying to soothe him and he sobbed harder:  _Dean was the one to endure the abuse and Sam couldn’t even keep it together enough to support him_. He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that: him folded over the steering as Dean rubbed his back wordlessly, but eventually his tears dried and he drove them to the bunker.  
  
Dean’s abused muscles had stiffened over the five hour drive and the older Winchester was in too much pain to even make it out of the Impala without support. Small whimpers escaped pursed lips as he helped his brother down the stairs and through the hallways to the large bathroom at the corner of the corridor where both Winchesters had claimed rooms for themselves. He helped his sibling down onto the wide marble ledge of the bathtub and set about adjusting the water temperature to fill the tub. By the time he turned, Dean had managed to work off his jacket and over-shirt but was pale-as-spoilt-milk and grimacing as he struggled to bend over and undo his boots and jeans.  
  
“Allow me,” He whispered, kneeling before his older brother and carefully undoing the laces and attempting to pull off the boots;  _attempting_  because with his feet swollen from a combination of the bastinado and the long drive, it was a far more difficult task than he had first presumed. Not wanting to jostle the injured appendages anymore than necessary, Sam readjusted himself to sit cross-legged and used his left hand to support Dean’s calf and ankle while carefully tugging at the boot with his right. Both Winchesters bit back gasps as Sam slowly worked the boots off. Once Dean’s swollen feet were bare, he could not resist stroking over them gently; watching the muscles jump as he traced the red welts left behind by the cruel cane. Hot tears dripped down his cheeks and on the tender skin as he sat cradling his older brother’s abused feet in his lap, the moment only breaking when Dean leaned forward to cup a hand over the back of his head and brush a kiss on the top of his head.  
  
“Let me stay,” He whispered once Dean was down to his boxers.  
  
“Sam-”   
  
“I’m not going to do anything, Dean. Just please-”  
  
“It’ll not be a pretty sight-” Dean began.  
  
“Can’t be worse than what my imagination is coming up with,” He shot back.  
  
Dean sighed but shook his head.  
  
“Dean, please...”  
  
“I- I need to do this alone, Sammy...  _please_?”  
  
Sam bit his lip, he understood Dean’s need to re-establish autonomy over his body and was loath to deny Dean that basic right; but at the same time, every time he closed his eyes he saw the men taking his brother repeatedly. He needed to see with his own eyes that Dean was whole and alright.  
  
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Dean added: “You can help me with the ointments once I’m clean, but-”  
  
And reluctantly, he gave his consent.  
  
He hovered outside the door, unable to simply leave. After hesitating for a bit, he sank down with his back to the door and closed his eyes. He jumped when he heard gagging, a pained moan and then the sound of Dean throwing up. Sam had the door open and his hand on Dean’s trembling back before he considered his actions.  
  
Dean shook him off, wiping at his mouth and pulling the lever to flush away the puke.  
  
“I- I... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to-” Sam stammered, trying to ignore the glimpse of the whitish fluid disappearing down the toilet bowl. “Do you need anything? Water?”  
  
Dean shook his head and shakily got to his feet. His face went pale as he put pressure on his abused feet. Sam reached out and wrapped an arm around his brother before the older man could collapse. Dean’s lips thinned but he allowed Sam to help him to and then into the- by now filled – bathtub. He grabbed the shampoo and a wash cloth, almost reaching out to help lather Dean before he caught sight of his brother’s expression: Dean’s lips were pursed and his eyes looked angry and horrified and humiliated all at once.   
  
“Here,” Sam put down the items he had grabbed within Dean’s reach and stood up. “Please don’t try to stand... I’ll leave you a towel and some clothes. Holler when you’re done.”  
  
He left before Dean could respond or he changed his mind himself. He headed to Dean’s room to rummage through his stuff for some soft sweatpants and a tee; found the first-aid kit first and placed that next to Dean’s bed. Then got the supplies Dean had asked for from the bag he had dropped on the library table on their way in and set everything up before heading back towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway.  
  
The shower was running by the time he got back and Sam knocked once before pushing the door and walking in. He blushed when he caught a glimpse of Dean on his hand and knees, with his right hand disappearing between his legs. Hoping his brother didn’t notice him, he hurried out of the bathroom.

  
\---

  
“Sam!”

  
The younger Winchester clambered to his feet hurriedly at the call, bursting through the door; terrified that Dean was mortally wounded somehow. Instead he found his brother- some colour back on his skin after that long shower/bath- perched on the tub’s ledge, white terry towel wrapped tightly around hips that still bore faint pink fingerprints as a reminder of what had transpired a few hours earlier.  
  
“Dean! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”  
  
“I’m good,” His brother reassured, “Just didn’t want to risk cracking my skull for a tee. Can you pass it to me?”  
  
“Oh, yeah... yeah. Sure.” Sam answered, still jittery from the adrenalin rush that Dean’s call had brought. He handed over the worn-in Henley, and waited with the sweats.  
  
“Don’t need ‘em right now.” Dean mumbled, a blush painting his cheeks, “not if you still want to check me out.”  
  
“Oh,... umm... yeah. Yeah, okay.”  
  
“Sam.” Dean interrupted, “You don’t have to, alright? I’ve already made sure I’m not going to bleed out on you or anything.”  
  
“I still want to,” Sam whispered- he wouldn’t if Dean was really set against it, wouldn’t force the man; but he knew he would be unable to calm himself till he had ascertained Dean’s well-being for himself.  
  
“Okay then,” Dean nodded, gritting his teeth and heaving himself to his feet.  
  
“Dammit! Would it kill you to ask for help?!” Sam grumbled as Dean’s already pale face went milk-white the moment he put weight on his abused soles. He swept up the older male in a fireman’s hold and carried him back to the room. Dean’s towel slipped when he settled him on the bed but the older Winchester simply sighed and crawled further in till he was at the centre.   
  
“Alright, do your stuff,” Dean announced, turning and lying on his stomach.  
  
Sam hesitated briefly, eyes drinking in the strong, clean lines of hard-earned muscle on Dean’s body- none of it the excessive bulk of a gym-bunny... but as he stared, he suddenly became aware of just how  _tense_ Dean was.  
  
“Hey,” He whispered, climbing on the bed himself, “It’s okay, it’s just me.”  
  
“Just get on with it,” Dean grumbled. Then, in a sharp jerking movement, he pulled his legs under him; the position making his ass stick up and proceeded pull apart the bruised globes of his rear to bare the sensitive opening in between.  
  
Sam gasped, taken aback by the vehemence of the action and peered at the reddened skin of Dean’s channel and the puffy pink opening. They both jumped at the click of the camera going off and Sam hastened to grab at Dean before he rolled away.  
  
“Sshh...” He whispered, knee-walking up the mattress till he was next to Dean’s face. “I-... I don’t have any idea of how a normal hole looks like, Dean... Just- Just wanted to get your opinion.”  
  
His brother’s face heated up as Sam watched but Dean forced himself to look at the picture displayed on Sam’s phone-screen.   
  
“Don’t have any idea either; the last butt I saw was yours when I was still changing your diapers.”  
  
And it was Sam’s turn to go beet-red.  
  
“But- ... based on how it feels, I can promise you that a normal hole looks nothing like that.”  
  
Sam choked at the obtuse allusion to the pain Dean was still in and hurried to bring him two of the strong pain-killers from their stash. Once Dean had swallowed them, he turned his attention back on the bared body before him.   
  
“Can I touch you?” He asked, not wanting to startle or trigger the older man.  
  
“Mmm,” Dean’s response was muffled.  
  
Squeezing out a dollop of the pleasantly cool ointment onto his fingers, he carefully lowered them to the chafed skin. Dean’s muscles twitched at the contact, but didn’t draw away. He carefully massaged the tiny pucker which opened easily under his fingers, having not tightened back up yet from the abuse it had endured.   
  
“I’m sorry,”  
  
Sam jumped at the words, about to question why Dean was apologising before he noticed the half-hard length.  
  
“Dean... are-are you apologising because of...”  
  
“Mmhmm,” His brother murmured, then in a barely audible whisper: “I promise I’m not going to take advantage of you,”  
  
“Why would I think you would... oh! ...Dean, do you- do you think this is arousal?”  
  
“Isn’t it? Raul noticed it as well... what – what a slut I am.”  
  
“Stop! Stop talking about yourself like that!”  
  
“It’s the truth,” Dean answered miserably.  
  
Sam watched Dean fist the sheet tightly enough that it was a miracle that it did not tear and felt his heart break for this tortured man who had always - _always_  -taken care of him and never even allowed him to know what the cost of that care was. He was sure that even today, if he had not intercepted; Dean would have slipped away with Raul and hidden what had transpired... Nearly two decades (at the minimum) had passed since Dean had been forced to put a price-tag on his body and he had never breathed a word about the abuse.  
  
He bent forward and pressed his lips against the cotton covering his brother’s sweaty back, wanting to comfort and hold him somehow but unable to do as he wanted because of the fingers he had inside Dean.   
  
“It’s not your fault, Dean. Nor does it mean you wanted it. ... Pressure against your prostate is bound to affect your umm... your dick. It’s a simple physiological reaction.” Sam explained softly, crouching awkwardly over the prone man and continuing to slather the ointment.  
  
“Yeah, right.” Dean scoffed.  
  
“Alright, fine. So get this- if someone forces a finger down your throat, you gag, right? If they still keep pressing, you throw up. It’s physiology-”  
  
“You can train out a gag reflex.” Dean interrupted.  
  
Sam froze, “You...?”  
  
“Got over my gag-reflex long ago, Sammy.” Dean confirmed.  
  
“H-How?”  _Was this another thing Dad had taught Dean but not him?_  
  
Dean chuckled wryly, “Well, once people begin using your ears like jug-handles and enjoy the way your throat flutters when you are choking; you learn to get over your gag pretty quick.”  
  
Oh.  _Oh._  Sam felt his eyes water at what was not being said, and remembered their original topic. Expressing pity or empathy would have Dean clamming up tighter than an oyster shell, so he chose a different route: He harrumphed. “Okay. How about this, someone brings something towards your eye, you blink.”  
  
“Yes,” Dean admitted grudgingly.  
  
“This is exactly like that!”  
  
“No, it’s not!”  
  
Sam hesitated briefly before crowding up behind Dean’s back, “It is.” He pressed a kiss against one tee-shirt covered shoulder. “If I let you finger me right now, no lube... Nothing. ... And- And I get hard from it...Would- Would you call me a slut?”  
  
“Sam!” Dean’s voice was strangled.  
  
“You don’t like me saying that?” He taunted.  
  
“No. ... Because you’re not! You’re not a slut. C’mon!”  
  
“Then why would you say you are, hmmm?”  
  
“Sam-” And Dean’s voice sounded defeated.  
  
“I’ve always wanted to be like my big brother, Dean. So if you’re a slut; I’m very well going to be one too.”  
  
Dean chuckled. It didn’t sound happy. “Fine- you win, okay? I- I’m not. I’m not a slut. Happy?”  
  
“Very.” Sam retorted, and then sighed. He glanced down to where his fingers were buried in Dean’s hole... he had always pictured pressing his fingers into his brother’s initially cringing flesh, gradually working him open carefully and lovingly till Dean’s reluctance melted into eagerness. He had wanted Dean to push back onto his fingers, eager for more; but now he quietly drizzled more of the ointment over his fingers and continued carefully coating Dean’s abused insides. ... The rare occasions he had allowed himself to picture this, he had always imagined Dean to be virgin tight and hesitant- making Sam work to even get in his pinkie into that clenching heat; but now Dean was swollen and puffy... and he barely had to work to push in two fingers.   
  
Dean sighed when Sam withdrew his fingers and he wiped off his hands slowly, giving Dean the opportunity to pull on boxers if he desired, and finding himself elated at the trust displayed when he didn’t. Turning his attention to Dean’s feet, Sam felt his tears return. There was no blood, but the tender skin on the underside of Dean’s feet was striped evenly with raised purple-pink welts from heel to finger-tips, the only place to have escaped the abuse being the curved arch on the in-sole... but even that had not been spared completely judging from the light bruise on the left feet. The worst of the welts were concentrated on the balls of his feet with barely any space between the individual stripes. A teardrop splashed down and Dean twitched, twisting to look behind himself.  
  
“Hey-hey-hey... what’s wrong?”  
  
Sam shook his head, unable to speak.  
  
“C’mere,” Dean invited, one hand extended palm up.  
  
Sam slipped his hand in that familiar callused grip and allowed himself to be cradled.  
  
“I’m okay. I promise.” Dean whispered, voice still slightly raspy, but recovering from all the water Sam had plied him with, “Just let me get a couple of hours in and I’ll be good as new.”  
  
Sam managed a tremulous smile, “I know, just let me finish bandaging and you can sleep.”  
  
It took some effort, but Sam eventually succeeded in coating the welts with the medicated pain-relieving ointment he had bought and bandaging them lightly so that they didn’t accidentally rub against the bed.  
  
Dean gratefully accepted the sweatpants once he was done and Sam cleared away the medical supplies. Once done, he placed more of the pain-meds on the table along with some water and Gatorade. After a brief deliberation, he added a packet of pre-packaged pudding and another of jello and pulled up a chair.  
  
“You planning to sleep on that?”  
  
Sam debated denying but then he was too exhausted for a charade and nodded tiredly. Dean grumbled incoherently, but shuffled until half the bed was free: “Get in.”  
  
\---  
  
  
Sam woke with a scream trapped in his throat and burning eyes. His breathing was still laboured and his chest heaved as he tried to draw in enough oxygen. Shuddering as he tried to find his equilibrium, he became aware of a warm palm on his chest.   
  
_And suddenly everything came back_.  
  
He glanced to his right and found a pair of familiar eyes watching him.  
“Dean...” He breathed.  
  
A tiny smile ghosted over his brother’s lips at his call but the worry was ever-present: Sam wondered if Dean had ever stopped worrying about/over him for even a few moments in the thirty –five years that had passed since he’d been handed Sam at four. ... He felt his lips twitch in an answering smile... _He had not even been in single digits when he’d been handed over to his brother’s arms for safe-keeping and he was still safe there, all these years later._  
  
“Nightmare?” His brother asked, the hand on his cheat absently tracing invisible doodles over the warm cotton. “Clowns or midgets?”  
  
“You,”  
  
Dean’s hand stilled and Sam instantly missed the comforting motion.   
  
“I’m sorry,”  
  
“I-I...I couldn’t move and they were- they were... and you were so young and I- I couldn’t reach you. Couldn’t save you-” Sam babbled, hurrying to explain as he caught sight of the swiftly concealed flash of hurt on his brother’s face.  
  
“I’m okay,” Dean assured, reaching out to pat his chest once.  
  
“You- you... when did you start, Dean? You were so young in my dream-”  
  
“My first time?”  
  
“Yeah-”  
  
“I told you about my first time, remember? With what’s her name- uh Sally Bradshaw,”  
  
“Not-not that first time, Dean. You know what I mean.”  
  
“Sam-” Dean sighed tiredly.  
  
“I- I’ll not force you to tell me, if you don’t want to; but I keep picturing you as a kid as these men-”  
  
“It was an year or two after Wisconsin, so I must’ve been uh... twelve.” Dean evaluated the time line mentally before nodding and confirming, “Yeah, twelve.”  
  
“ _Twelve?!_ ” Sam gasped. He’d pictured a sixteen- a seventeen year old and here Dean was telling him that he had been twelve! Even though four years was not a huge difference, when he’d been a kid, Dean had seemed almost an adult- a larger-than-life superman-esq figure who was invincible and never got hurt... it was obvious that that version of his brother had never actually existed outside of Sam’s mind, but Dean had always been bigger than him in his memories and even now he found it hard to picture a twelve year old Dean. He saw him as he was now and couldn’t picture anyone taking advantage of him, but they had! They had hurt Sam’s brother so terribly...  
  
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”  
  
“Never wanted you to know...” Dean whispered, “And I’m sorry you found out today-  _yesterday_...”  
  
“But Dean...”  
  
His brother shook his head, “It wasn’t- it  _isn’t_  a big deal Sammy. And besides, it was just trade- they wanted something and were willing to pay for I had to offer. It’s not like it was any hardship.”  
  
“If it isn’t a big deal, then why didn’t Dad ever ask  _me_ , huh?”  
  
“First, I’d have shot anybody- Dad included, who dared to suggest prostituting you, and B, you and I are not the same, Sammy; never have been. ... I- I enjoy sex. It’s not a chore or something for me... okay, umm, that came out wrong- I’m not suggesting that it’s a chore for you; but – but it  _means_  something to you... but most importantly, the only reason I ever went through it was so that you could stay unblemished just a little while more. The life had stolen everything else from you: Mom, bedtime stories, normal childhood, a stable home... I wasn’t letting it take away your innocence too.”  
  
“Thanks,” Sam whispered even as he fought to control the tremble in his lips despite the way he was chewing them. “Dean...How could Dad... how could he just  _pimp_  you out like that? When you were- when you were  _twelve!_ ”  
  
“It wasn’t like that, Sammy...” Dean sighed tiredly.  
  
“You can’t tell me it wasn’t like that after everything that Raul said!” Sam protested.  
  
Dean shook his head, chuckling lightly, “He didn’t know-”  
  
“But Raul said-”  
  
“Not at first-” Dean finished, glaring at him for interrupting. “No one  _pimped_  me out when I was twelve, Sam. I did it all on my own.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
Dean shrugged, “Dad had been gone longer than he’d said, and we needed food.”  
  
“So you just...?”  
  
“No,” Dean shook his head, “Got caught lifting... the guy immediately realized something was not right- I was twelve and I was trying to steal bread and instant soup and children’s’ Tylenol. He threatened to call the CPS and I begged him not to- promised to work the cost off. He countered by telling me that he would let me take whatever I needed if I spent an hour with him-”  
  
“An hour?!” Sam repeated, mind working over-time as he tried to imagine what all could have been done to a minor in that span.   
  
“I bargained for 30 minutes.” Dean cut off his panicking, “Guy agreed without further debate. ... He- he didn’t keep me for an extra second, Sammy. And I got to go home with a grocery bag’s worth of stuff. ... It happened on and off after that... it wasn’t anything I couldn’t give-”  
  
Sam swallowed down his gorge at the easy way Dean seemed to accept using his body as a source of income and asked the question haunting his mind since he’d found out about their father’s involvement, “How did Dad find out?”  
  
“I must’ve been fourteen or fifteen at the time. He’d sent me to book a room: you had the beginnings of a fever and Dad had a dislocated shoulder from the hunt; the rooms were more expensive that he’d anticipated. I ended up sucking the guy off out back in lieu of making up the difference... Dad went in next week to extend our booking. ... He never said anything, but I always thought that was when he’d figured out that his son was a whore... He looked so disgusted with me for weeks...” The last was a barely audible whisper.  
  
“Dean, please...”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“And...” Sam hesitated, “How did Dad know Raul?”  
  
“Raul runs a cartel... he- he’s bad news, Sammy. Promise me you’re not going to meddle with him?”  
  
“Dean-”  
  
“Please, Sam.”  
  
He nodded, but refused to verbally make the commitment...  
  
“Thank you. Anyway... what did you ask? Oh, right; Dad and Raul... Dunno how they first met, but Raul was listed as one of Dad’s contacts...Dad bought a few guns off him.”  
  
“How’d you get involved?”  
  
“Raul’s ammo is good, but expensive. He offered to trade with Dad, if he would let me make some money for him...”  
  
“And Dad agreed?”  
  
Dean shrugged.  
  
“Dad never asked? What you had to do to earn for Raul?”  
  
Dean shook his head, “He was always an ends justify the means type of guy, Sam.”  
  
“How much business did Dad do with him?” Sam asked urgently, hoping the answer was just ‘once’...  
  
“Not a lot,” Dean answered evasively, “A few times, maybe...”  
  
“And you never told him?”  
  
“Told him what?”  
  
“What Raul did to you?”  
  
“Like I said Sammy, it wasn’t anything I wasn’t willing to give.”  



	3. Three

 

 Chapter-3

 

 

 

The days dissolved into one-another after the incident and a strange kind of awkwardness developed between the brothers. Despite the closeness between them just after _it_ had happened, there was a silence between Sam and Dean now. They ghosted around each other, neither able to forget, but both somehow unable to bring up what had happened.

“Can’t believe you are yet to tap that!”

Dean jumped at the voice, twisting to face the intruder with one arm already reaching for his gun.

“Oh, puh-leez, the only reason I am here, Squirrel; is because I was invited!” Crowley grumbled indignantly, hand raised in the universal gesture for ‘ _I come in peace_ ’.

“Invited?” Dean spat.

“Of course I was invited! Ask Moose.” The demon king shot back, pulling out the chair next to Dean without invitation and seating himself, “Can I get a pancake too? It’s been awhile since I’ve had the opportunity to sample some.”

Dean scowled as he turned his head to look at Sam who was preparing breakfast and resettled himself in the armchair.

As though sensing his regard, Sam turned, “Crowley. Is it done?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. _Huh, guess Sam was keeping secrets again._

“Pancakes?”The demon repeated.

“Sam rolled his eyes visibly, “Yes, I’ll make some for you as well. Now, about what I’d asked, is it done?”

“Yes, it’s done!” The demon snapped; a visible pout on his face. “Why is it that you denim clad nightmares can never spare a few minutes on pleasantries, huh? A simple ‘ _Hey, Crowley, how’ve you been? We’ve missed you’_ ; is it too much to ask?”

Sam huffed and turned back to his pancakes, ignoring the demon’s theatrics; and Dean was not as easily swayed. The elder Winchester continued staring at his younger sibling, eyes narrowed, “Should I even ask, Sam?”

“You didn’t know?” The demon practically rubbed his hands together in glee like a cartoon villain. “Wow. No wonder you are not all over him yet. ... Moose just gave you the most extravagant courting gift in all of history, Dean... A gift that even _I_ can appreciate.”

“ _Sam_.” Dean’s voice held that undercurrent of steel that had even Crowley going silent for a minute.

The younger Winchester sighed and flipped the pancake before turning to face his older sibling, “It’s nothing,”

“Nothing?!” Dean’s voice rose as he hobbled to his feet, lines of pain creasing around the corners of his eyes instantly, but not backing down.

“Dean, please!” Sam hurried forward, pancakes forgotten: “Your feet-!”

“I don’t understand what’s got you so bloody worked up, Squirrel; Moose was just trying to give you a gift.” Crowley cut in.

The older Winchester turned to face the demon, “Yeah? And just what’s it going to cost him, huh? His soul?”

“What do you take me for?” Crowley’s smile dimmed as he sobered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing.” Dean repeated dryly. “You actually expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, I do. It’s been a long time since we were on opposing sides, Dean. And I’m a businessman. I don’t cheat my allies.” Crowley shot back.

“Dean, please... just-just sit down, okay? You’re hurting yourself.” Sam repeated, grabbing at his brother’s shoulders and trying to physically manoeuvre him back into his seat. Dean scowled but allowed himself to be manhandled back into the armchair.

“It’s –it’s not a deal like you’re thinking,” Sam continued, helping the injured man to stretch his legs on the conveniently placed stool in front and crouching to check on whether Dean’s impulsive action had re-opened any of the healing welts on the soles of his feet.

Crowley, ever curious about the Winchesters followed, the demon’s brows furrowing into deep lines as he took in the condition of the hunter’s feet.

“Is that from-?” He questioned, crouching to get a better look.

Sam gave a distracted hum of acknowledgement even as he hurried to fetch the tube of ointment from Dean’s room.

“You promise to stop giving Moose a hard time about this?” The demon asked the older Winchester.

“Wha-?”

The demon shook his head in frustration and snapped his fingers just as Sam returned with the medicated ointment, the younger sibling nearly tripping in his haste to reach the older. “What? What did you do? Dean!”

“I-... I’m fine.” The older brother cut off the younger’s panicked ramblings, “I- I think he _healed_ me.”

“He...?” Sam trailed off, crouching to check Dean’s feet again and feeling tears of relief escape when he took in the unblemished skin. He glanced up at the Demon king, eyes wet and grateful, “You can _heal?_... Thank you. Thank you so much!”

The demon harrumphed and reclaimed his seat, “I just dropped by to ask about the last name on your list. ... and maybe for some pancakes.”

Sam smiled, his gratitude over Dean’s recovery making him ask if the demon wanted more pancakes as he placed a plateful of them in front of the suit-clad man.

“What list?” Dean demanded, bursting the bubble.

“I- uh...”

“Sam asked me if I could arrange for a special _welcoming committee_ when certain souls finally appeared in Hell. I agreed. ... and looking at the condition of your feet, I think I need to ... let’s just say _improve_ my plans.”

“And it’s not going to cost Sam anything?”

The demon shook his head, “Not a penny.”

“You and I both know that you don’t exactly deal in money, Crowley.”

The demon cackled, “No, I don’t... but don’t worry. It’s really not a _task_ for me... more of a ... shall we say _pleasure_? Well, anyway. Sam’s safe from me. So are you.”

“Cas?”

“Ah, yes. Your pet angel. .. How could I forget? Yes, he’s safe too.” The demon confirmed, “Now, about that final name?”

“It- it has to be Dean’s decision.” Sam whispered.

The older Winchester raised a curious brow. “Mine? Seriously?”

Sam nodded.

Dean shifted to face Sam fully, a worried little divot between his brows, “A-l-r-i-g-h-t... who is it?”

“John Winchester.”

Sam stared intently towards his brother’s impassive face in an attempt to get a read on what his older sibling was feeling, but the elder Winchester’s expression was studiously free of any emotion.

  
“Dad?” Dean asked after a moment, “You want to send _Dad_ to _Hell_?”

  
Sam lowered his eyes, unable to meet that betrayed gaze, “After- after what he did to you...”

  
Dean sighed, “He meant well, Sammy.”

  
“How can you even justify his actions?!”

  
Dean shook his head, “Look, he... he kept you safe, alright? And-and-and he... well, he wasn’t perfect, but he did his best. And –and even then, if it had been about Dad alone, yeah, maybe... but he and Mom share a heaven, Sammy. If you take him from there, Mom’s heaven also ceases to exist. And I-... I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but no. Crowley’s not touching him.”

  
“Jeez, Winchester. I’m going to need shades if your soul glows any brighter.” The demon grumbled, but didn’t argue. Realizing there was nothing further to discuss, he took his leave with a cheerful, “Cheerio.”

\---

The silence between them was stilted after the demon’s departure and it was ultimately Sam who broke first: “Dean, about- about what Crowley said-”

His brother let out a soft chuckle, it sounded more sad than mirthful, “I know, Sammy... you don’t have to explain not wanting me- _to be around me-_ ” he amended with a blush.

Sam bit his lip and nodded, “So you know that I’m not going to force you, _right_ ? You’re my Big brother first, Dean. And whatever else I may feel for you, I’ll always want you happy more-... I mean, I’ve lived with this for thirty-two years already and I know I can go on... And I get that knowing that your brother wants in your pants might be awkward for you, but I promise, alright- I promise I’m not going to...to rape y-”

“Wait, _what?!_ ” Dean interrupted, “Are you telling me that you still want me? Despite knowing my history? Hell, despite getting a first row seat to my depravity?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Sam’s eyes flew to meet his, “And yes, I want you. _Still. Always._ ... And I don’t see that changing anytime soon,”

Dean’s face reflected the surprise that he felt from Sam’s vehemence. “You mean it, Sammy?” He asked; his voice quiet.

Sam opened his mouth to respond but Dean spoke over him, refusing to let him have a word edgeways till he had finished saying his piece: “Because I don’t- don’t need all these romantic declarations to spread my legs. Not for you, at least... I-I mean you’re m’brother, you should’ve gotten first dibs anyway, right? And I’m sorry if you think I held off on you- I just, I never thought you might be interested in something like this. But if you want me, I- I’m yours Sammy. You just need to say the word, alright? And I’ll give you the ride of your life: I know I’m no longer young and pretty, but Cas did a pretty good job of rebuilding me and Crowley healed me up perfectly, I-I- can still be good. If you look on the positive side, I’m still tight enough and now I know the tricks to make you feel good, alright? You can let me do all the work and I promise I’ll make it worth your ti-”

“Stop. Please stop. _Dean!_ ”

Sam’s distressed call made the older sibling suddenly silent. Dean regarded his brother’s distraught expression and the crystalline droplets clinging to his eyelashes, “Sammy?”

“Dean...”

And then he was collapsing on his knees as he tried to hug himself while he sobbed, he only cried harder when his brother’s protective arms gathered him closer. “Sshhh.... c’mon, now... I’ve got you, sshhhh...”

Sam peered tearfully up at the older man, “How could you even think that, huh? That I- that you owe me _that?_ ”

“I’m sorr-”

“No! You- you just don’t get it, do you? How important you are to me?” Sam interrupted, “I _love_ you, alright? Have, since I knew what the word meant. ... and no, I don’t expect you to reciprocate... I mean, I get that it’s fucked up, alright? That I’m sick for wanting my _brother_ like that, but, it’s not that, Dean. I don’t want you because you’re my brother, but yes, it’s hot that you are that- No. I want you- I _love_ you because you’re Dean, okay? Infuriating, stubborn and with a shitty taste in music; but also infinitely kind and forgiving and loyal... just- I-I don’t have words to describe what you are- what you mean to me, alright?”

Dean nodded, then; “You love me?”

Sam peered up from where he was leaning his head against his brother’s shoulders, “You didn’t know?”

“I never- I never let myself hope-”

“I do,” Sam confirmed softly, leaning forward to chastely press his lips against the older man’s plush ones.

Deans lips opened without hesitance, granting his little brother access. Sam pulled back.

“Dean, do you want this? Because if I find out later that you’re only doing this for me, then I can promise you that I’ll end up hating myself.”

“I do,” Dean admitted softly, “I wanted you from when you were sixteen and just beginning to grow into your hands and feet, Sammy.”

Sam stared in wonder at the older man, “You-... but you never said anything...”

“I know,” Dean agreed with a wry smile, “I always wanted what was best for you and getting into an incestuous relationship wasn’t it. Besides, you were far too impressionable at sixteen. What if you didn’t understand what you were agreeing to?”

Sam chuckled wetly and leaned into those familiar arms, “Think I can handle it now?”

“Yeah,”

“Good, ‘coz I’m not letting you go, Dean. If you agree to this, then you’re mine, okay? I don’t share well.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other for a moment, at an impasse before they both moved at the same time. Dean chuckled, “My room?”

Sam grinned in confirmation, “Your room,”

Dean seemed to hesitate once the door closed behind them, though, “You’re sure you want this?”

Sam smiled softly as he nodded, leaning forward slightly to place a gentle kiss against Dean’s lips, “Do _you_ want this?”

Dean nodded immediately.

Sam took a minute to just stare at the older man-back when he’d been in school; he’d had to read an excerpt from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and ended up reading the whole book out of interest. At the time he’d wondered if he would ever find someone who would be willing to die for him- he knew- _had known even then_ \- that Dean would kill for him, but having someone die for you- _having someone love you enough that they would not want to survive without you…_ it had seemed incredibly romantic.

_He knew better now…_

He had expected something like that to be romantic love- and discovered that he had a platonic love which went even deeper: Dean had, after all, not only given away his life- _but also his afterlife_ \- to safeguard Sam. The knowledge had been the final push that had sealed his fraternal feelings into something more.

“Hey,” Dean’s soft voice brought him out of his musings. “How’d you wanna do this?”

Sam shook his head, determined to put his brother first, “What do _you_ want?”

“Wanna make you feel good,” Dean responded immediately and Sam frowned.

“Dean…” He began hesitantly, “You don’t have to-”

The older brother chuckled, “It got nothing to do with my past, Sammy- atleast, not the way you think- … I mean, when I’m with… … when I’m with _clients_ ” Dean hesitated, taking a quick glance at Sam to make sure he wasn’t reacting badly to the reminder about Dean’s past, “they _take_ their pleasure from me. It’s enough for them, I guess; but I could show them a much better time if they’d let me help. … So yeah, I like taking care of my partner during sex. Would… would you let me-?”

Sam nodded instantly, staring in awe at this man who the world tried time and again to hurt- _to harden_ \- and Dean just endured everything and refused to change.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, okay. Just… just don’t make me top. Not this time, atleast?”

Dean froze and then bit his lip, “You… Have you ever done this before? Been with a man, I mean?”

He shook his head.

“What if you don’t like it?”

“What if I don’t?”

“Sam … if you top then… then it isn’t much different from being with a chick, alright? And you can wave it off as experimentation… but if you bottom-”

“I keep seeing those men abuse you every time I close my eyes, Dean. If- if I top, I’ll end up counting myself in the same group as those bastards…If you top, then you can prove it to me that it won’t hurt and then maybe-?”

Dean shook his head, “It won’t be like that.”

Sam peered quizzically at him.

“With you, I’d be the one in control. You won’t hurt me- _I won’t let you_ \- and I’m fairly certain that we’ll both enjoy ourselves... but if- if, for whatever reason, you don’t , you can chalk it up to experimentation and leave it at that.”

Sam stared. It was almost like Dean couldn’t help himself... but Sam knew better. Dean wasn’t offering this casually. He wouldn’t. ... because; in essence, Dean had just offered him his heart and a set of finely sharpened carving knives. ... It would’ve been different had Sam never hurt him before; but after Stanford, after Ruby, after Amelia; hell, after telling him that he’d not save Dean under the ‘same circumstances’ ; he had hurt the older man far too many times already. And yet, here was Dean again, trusting Sam.

“Please...”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “You _really_ want to play catcher?”

He nodded mutely, keeping his stance relaxed to see what his brother would do. And Dean didn’t disappoint, lifting him up; Sam’s legs came up to wrap around Dean’s waist the way they had when they’d been children and he let out a squeal when his brother tightened his hold and started walking, carrying him to bed like Sam was a delicate chick instead of six feet- four inches of pure muscle. Dean laid him out on the bed and Sam shivered from the coolness of the sheets.

“Okay?” Dean checked, not missing the shiver.

He nodded, throat dry in anticipation.

“Good,”

And soft lips descended on his.

Sam surged up eagerly, opening up without hesitance and grinning when Dean’s plundering tongue dipped in. He gasped into the kiss as he felt the first brush of warm fingers against his skin and was rewarded with a throaty chuckle.

He could only smile as Dean tugged off his shirt and pressed butterfly kisses on the bared skin.

“You too, please?”

Dean nodded, swiftly disrobing himself and Sam feasted his eyes on the acres of lightly freckled fair skin. He was abruptly struck by the memory of the men stripping Dean and forced himself to look away.

“Hey,”

Sam opened his eyes at the soft call. Dean was smiling gently at him, “Stay with me, yeah?”

He nodded, surging up with another kiss and grateful when his brother responded eagerly.

“You sure you want me to continue?” Dean murmured softly, fingers toying with the snap of Sam’s jeans.

Sam nodded vehemently.

“Good,” Dean acknowledged and lowered his head to press a kiss at the vulnerable skin just below his navel even as his fingers carefully undid the snap and pulled apart the edges; pressing a second kiss at his boxer-covered skin.

Sam propped his shoulders up on his elbows as he stared down the length of his body and watched Dean lowering the zipper a few scant inches at a time and pressing warm lips on the boxer covered region. He groaned as the warmth coupled with the erotic sight had him twitching and heaved a sigh of relief when Dean was finally done with the zipper. He readily lifted his hips, allowing his brother to tug down the denim and trembled as the cool air of the room raised goosebumps on his heated flesh. He threw his head back when Dean lowered his head again, mouthing wetly at the twitching boxer-covered flesh, hips thrusting up in search of that wet heat automatically.

“Sammy, may I?” Dean’s voice was pure sin and Sam blearily opened his eyes to see what his brother wanted.

Dean smiled, green eyes nearly black with arousal as his fingers skimmed the edge of his moist briefs teasingly, “Sam?”

He nodded, blushing when he was stripped between one blink and the next and the flushing as he noticed Dean’s appreciative gaze. His legs fell open easily when the older brother shouldered his way forward to steal a kiss at his lips and he gasped at the first touch of a moist finger against his tightly clenched hole.

“Okay?” Dean checked.

He nodded breathlessly, opening his legs even wider in hopes of enticing Dean to hurry with the prep.

Dean chuckled as though he knew what Sam was trying to do and carefully teased his fingertip in a few scant centimetres. Sam clenched experimentally against the novel intrusion- it didn’t hurt, just made him feel full and gave him the strange sensation of pins and needles.

“More?” Dean asked, mouthing at his hip and Sam could only nod, throwing his head back on a moan as he felt the full length of Dean’s index finger breach him, skittering over something inside him that had him seeing stars behind his clenched eyelids. The finger moved in and out experimentally, and Sam moved his hips in hopes of feeling that spark again but to no avail.

He didn’t know how much time had passed but the finger left him and Sam opened his eyes, peering apprehensively at the bulge between Dean’s legs and meeting his lover’s eyes, “I’m ready?”

Dean laughed, a full throw-back-your-head and belly-laugh kind of laugh, before he managed to meet Sam’s curious gaze again, “Not even close, Sweetheart. Not even close.”

“But-“

“Sshhh... trust me?”

“Always.”

“Good, then just lie back and enjoy, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

Sam could only nod, throat dry as he watched Dean coat his fingers in lubricant and lower his hand between his splayed legs again. He had a fleeting thought that no one had taken such gentle care of his brother for his first time, but strove to bury it deep so that he would not lose interest in the proceedings and worry Dean needlessly.

This time he anticipated the intrusion and his body accepted the slippery finger easily, relaxing when he felt it move around inside him, liberally coating his insides in the greasy fluid. When Dean continued to stroke his insides at the same gentle pace even after a full minute, he opened his eyes ( _when had he closed them?, he wondered idly_ ) only to find soft green eyes focused on his face. His brother’s expression was strangely fond, a gentleness to his eyes that Sam recognized from his boyhood. He gasped softly when Dean withdrew his finger once again.

“Dee?” He blushed as he realized he had reverted to his childhood call for his brother, but if the way Dean’s eyes crinkled into a smile at the call were anything to go by, his brother hadn’t minded.

“Turn over for me. Please?”

Sam’s brows furrowed, “Wanna see you.... please?”

“I know,” Dean smiled, “And I want that as well. This is just for the prep, okay?”

Sam nodded grudgingly as he accepted, letting out a surprised gasp as his sensitive penis came into contact with the body-warm sheets at his new position. Dean’s fingers dipped back inside him and Sam clenched his eyes at the double assault: his brother’s slick fingers against his prostrate and the cotton sheets which dragged against his turgid length every time he shifted.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry, please... I- I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”

“I don’t want you to hold on, Sammy. Let go, alright? We have all night....”

He clenched at the seductive promise and mewled when he lost the fight against his orgasm. He whimpered when he felt too sensitive to the continued stimulation and Dean wordlessly removed the fingers from within him. As relieved as he was to get away from the torturous stimulation, Sam whined at the loss. Dean chuckled as he lowered his head to Sam’s sweat slick skin, peppering soft kisses and lapping contentedly up the dip of his spine while Sam’s dick tried valiantly to rise to the challenge. He shifted when he felt Dean crawl up his body and nuzzle at his nape, smiling contentedly when the older brother crowded up behind him and pulled Sam closer till Sam was virtually lying on him rather than on the mattress. Dean petted his hair and whatever else he could reach from his awkward position, shifting Sam’s boneless form as he saw fit. The change in position nudged Dean’s turgid length against Sam’s thigh and his eyes flew open, staring down at the still smiling man under him in horrified wonder, “Dean you-?”

“Hey, sshhh... its fine, I promise.”

“But you didn’t-”

“Never said we were done, Sammy. _Relax._ ”

Sam felt himself calm at the assurance but still stared uncertainly at his elder brother, “Promise?”

Dean quirked an eyebrow, “You want me to stop?”

Sam shook his head vehemently.

“Good. Then relax. I told you I’d take care of you.”

Sam nodded and breathed out through his nose, only then feeling the questing finger buried in his ass. He raised his eyes to meet the older man’s amused gaze, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You-” just then the fingers re-located _that_ spot inside him and he gasped, clenching instinctively and losing his train of thought, “Shit... there, do it again. Please.... yeah, yeah... more, please; Dean...”

Dean just chuckled and continued his assault on Sam prostrate, watching as the younger man humped him, his spent length quickly regaining it’s interest...

Once Sam was ready for round two and whining steadily, Dean carefully slipped out from under him, re-taking his position behind the younger male and grinning as Sam gyrated his hips, pushing back against the three fingers filling him and shifting forward to get better friction for his dick, a litany of wordless pleas escaping his lips all the while. There was an obscene squelch as he withdrew his fingers, smiling in satisfaction when the loosened rim clenched hungrily around thin air.

“Sam?”

His brother whined, pulling his legs under himself to raise his ass and offering himself to Dean, “Ple-please...!”

“Hey- hey-hey,” Dean murmured, grabbing at the twitching man and positioning him on his back in a practiced move, “Sam! Look at me, Sammy,”

Lust darkened hazel eyes found and held his, “Dee....”

“Shhh.... I’ve got you, Kiddo... it’s okay...”

“Please...”

Dean smiled, stroking his clean hand through the sweat-tousled hair, “You sure you want this?”

Sam blinked at the question, eyes instinctively slipping down Dean’s body to catch a glimpse of the tented boxers. _Shit, that had to be painful..._

He nodded.

Dean brushed his lips against his once more, “Need you to use your words, Sammy... you sure ‘bout this? ‘Cause there’s no going back after this, you know...”

He licked dry lips as he nodded again, “’m sure...”

“Thank you,” _Another quick kiss_

He watched with interest as the boxers came off to reveal an impressively sized dick. He swallowed as he glanced at his brother apprehensively.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Dean whispered, guiding himself to Sam’s stretched hole.

Sam nodded, clenching instinctively as he felt the thick intrusion against his sensitive opening. He struggled not to whimper in terror: _Shit, how on earth was that ever going to fit inside him?_

He risked a glance at Dean and saw his brother’s brows furrowed in concentration.

_Dean wouldn’t hurt him._

It was that knowledge that allowed him to finally relax and he felt Dean finally slip inside. They both groaned simultaneously.

It was that knowledge that allowed him to finally relax and he felt Dean finally slip inside. They both groaned simultaneously. _Damn... that- that actually felt sort-a nice_...

He didn’t know how Dean did it, but his brother managed to hold off from slamming into him forcefully; sliding inside in slow increments and giving him the chance to acclimatise to the intrusion. By the time Dean was fully inside, Sam was ready for him to _’move, already!’_ And move, he did.

 

Later, once they had both climaxed and come down from their release, Dean had gotten up again to clean himself up and get a moist wash-cloth for Sam; and then curled up around him so that neither of them was on the wet spot. Dean had dropped off to sleep almost immediately, but Sam found himself awake- still floating on the endorphin rush.

The night he had watched Dean getting brutalized had been one of the worst in his life- _and that included the century or so he’d spent in the cage with Lucifer_ \- but it had once again proved the extent of Dean’s love for him... and maybe, - _just maybe_ ; accelerated their path to each-other.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompt:  
> The brothers end up in the clutches of twisted humans and rather than have them both torture or murdered, Dean offers himself up if they let Sam go. 
> 
> Sam is then forced to watch his big brother go through a brutal and humiliating gang rape along with the dawning realization that this isn't the 1st time this has happened.(Optional- John Winchester had entangled with these people before and even then they had wanted time with Dean- which was how Dean knew to offer himself up in the first place.)
> 
> Upto author if Sam ends up maiming or killing most of the group or unleashes some other form of revenge.
> 
> I would love after care at the bunker but it does not have to written. 
> 
> Please no Destiel and/or Castiel rescuing Dean or helping during the aftercare. He can be busy with heaven or locating Lucifer or anything else (or simply hand-waved away, if author desires.)


End file.
